


moon river

by plantyourtreeswithme



Category: Gandrew - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Explicit Sex, Obsession, Suicidal Thoughts, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantyourtreeswithme/pseuds/plantyourtreeswithme
Summary: Andrew has lost something he cannot quite place.
Relationships: Andrew Siwicki/Garrett Watts
Comments: 28
Kudos: 30





	moon river

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love to this song, and thought I might share my love for it with you.
> 
> (Based off of Jacob Collier's [absolutely ethereal cover of "Moon River,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPLCk-FTVvw) originally sung by Audrey Hepburn.)

The casket is closed.

He had mindlessly put on his suit this morning - hardly bothered to mess with his hair and didn't have time to shower (he can't remember the last time he took one). And now here he is, standing in front of a coffin.

He reaches out, touches it. Feels the endless possibilities of who this person could've been to him, who this person was, fizzle and spiral out of existence beneath his fingertips.

Someone coughs and sniffs behind him, and he realizes how long he has been standing here; palms itching, trying to suppress the urge to wrench the coffin open and stare down at the body within.

He wants to see that face one last time.

There is a place reserved for him in the second row, so he goes and sits in it, awkwardly, mind drifting as the service begins. Several people get up and speak, and tears are shed, and he vaguely recalls that he was asked to say something, too, but he hadn't been able to say yes.

Shane and Morgan shift in his peripheral vision. He wonders what they're doing here.

The sky darkens and melts into cool, blue steel. Clouds froth above their heads as they walk back from the grave. The color of the vast canvas stretching behind them is reminiscent of something once familiar to him. He struggles to recall what he's forgotten, concentrating so hard that his head actually starts to hurt - he pinches his brow beneath two fingers, screws his eyes shut -

"Andrew."

He looks up. Sees a woman he recognizes, he _knows_ , standing before him. He realizes he's stopped walking.

Dark curtains of rain rumble as the funeral party ebbs around them. A droplet falls, lands on the dry patch of skin beneath his left eye. He blinks, and thinks of the smell of rain, pelting against fresh earth, watering soil over a newly-dug grave.

 _Grass will grow over that body,_ he thinks. _Grass will grow over the person I once knew, and death will be part of something living once again._

The woman is still standing there, looking at him expectantly. She is blonde, and very short, and she is holding an umbrella and looking like she hasn't slept in years.

He can't for the life of him recall her name.

She beckons to him, raises the umbrella up high so he can stand with her underneath it.

"Andrew," she says again, once he's approached. They are standing too close together for him to bear. She motions for him to take the black handle from her, and he does, watching with confusion as she reaches into her purse - catches a flash of red as she pulls her hand out again.

"My son," she chokes, tears spilling from her eyes like a river overflowing - like foundations ripping at the seams, like a house drifting away in a flash flood. "My son."

 _You are not my mother,_ he registers dimly, opening his mouth to speak - but she reaches up; touches the side of his face; presses the red something into his hand.

"You would've been my son," she weeps.

He lets her cry - lets her kiss his cheek, and then join the funeral procession again, walking away from him. Stays standing in that same spot, staring down at the piece of fabric wrapped around his fingers, silky and sanguine.

Somehow, looking at it makes his head pound even harder.

* * *

_i've lost something in moon river,  
_ _and i can't recall what it is -_

_so i will just keep spinning:  
turning this scrap of cloth over in my hands,  
pulling on the chain at my neck;_

_until it is returned to me._

* * *

Garrett opens the door before Andrew has even raised a hand to knock, worry shining in his blue-gray eyes. He sweeps Andrew into his arms, pulling him inside before he can say a word and holding him so tight, Andrew thinks his heart might burst.

"Are you okay?" Garrett asks softly once they've settled on the couch. Andrew is still pressed up against him, sitting in his boyfriend's lap with his head resting against his broad shoulder.

"You've been really distant the past few days," Garrett continues, concern taking root in his voice. Andrew knows he's read between the lines - spotted the anxiety in Andrew's short, vague texts; recognized the nervousness in his unusual silence online. He knows Andrew so well - _too_ well not to notice his uneasiness.

He says nothing, choosing instead to turn against Garrett and bury his face even further into the bunched-up fabric of his shirt, taking in as much of Garrett's warmth as possible.

Garrett understands immediately, saying sweetly, "Oh, honey," and resting his head against Andrew's.

"It's been a rough few days," Andrew finally mumbles.

"I know, baby," Garrett says, and he gets up off the couch, hovering over him. Andrew makes a soft sound at the sudden lack of heat, but Garrett just smiles. "Let's get you out of these clothes, hmm? So you can properly relax."

"Oh. I love you."

What starts as Garrett simply taking care of Andrew turns into something more - because Andrew _wants_ more, wants things to feel normal again - and soon, they're on the bed, and Andrew is a little quiet at first, but then Garrett is moving above him, thrusting a little harder into him - and then tears are welling in Andrew's eyes, trickling down the sides of his face as he moans a little louder, a little more for Garrett - and he can't tell if he's crying from happiness or grief - and Garrett always knows how to make him feel so, so good, and the tension inside him builds, explodes, and he cries out, Garrett's name on his lips, calling to him over and over and over again.

He cries again, after Garrett's finished and he's just holding him, his chest against Andrew's freckled back. He lets Garrett wipe his salt-stained cheeks and tell him how much he loves him. He falls asleep in Garrett's arms.

"Come to dinner with me next week," he says over breakfast the next morning. "Let's go to a restaurant and dress up and just spend time together. It'll be really nice."

Garrett smiles at him, reaches across the table to take his hand. "I'm glad you're feeling back to normal, Andrew."

He's not, but he doesn't say so.

* * *

_moon river glitters beneath my fingers,_

_as i dip my hands into the water  
and reach around,  
groping,_

_searching for you._

* * *

"...and long story short, I've ordered a tiny bug hotel off of eBay," Garrett is saying with a gleeful grin.

Andrew nearly spits his water out, but fights against the urge to laugh without thinking and embarrass himself in front of an entire restaurant. He waits to swallow before bursting into raucous laughter, giggling uncontrollably as Garrett goes on to say, in his silly, prim and proper falsetto voice, "You're not mad at me, are you, Andrew?"

It takes him what feels like five minutes to catch his breath after that one, tears leaking from his eyes. How is it possible that _everything_ that comes out of Garrett's mouth is always so damn funny?

"Garrett," he manages between laughs, wiping at his eyes, "baby, how could I ever be mad at you for buying more tiny things?"

"Well, I dunno, Andrew, you might think I'm a hoarder or something - not sure where you'd _ever_ get that idea from -"

That reduces him to a crying, giggling mess, and he's cackling, bent over the table from laughing so hard, his stomach aching. He's aware that people around them are staring, chuckling a bit to themselves at the eccentricity of Andrew's laugh - but it doesn't matter. Garrett is so ridiculously pleased with himself, he's positively glowing, beaming at Andrew; and so of course Andrew has to tell him, "God, I'm so in love with you."

Andrew doesn't work up the courage to propose to Garrett until they've finished dinner, and Andrew is paying (at Garrett's protest), and they're exiting the building hand-in-hand. There is a little rose garden next to the restaurant, and Andrew steers Garrett towards it, grinning broadly as his boyfriend wonders aloud what's happening.

He stops in the middle of the garden, the bushes swaying slightly around them in the breeze. Garrett is still smiling that wonderful smile, and Andrew cannot help himself from standing up on his tiptoes to kiss him.

"Garrett," he breathes as he draws back - and then struggles to find words, his mouth hanging open. He closes it, and swallows, but his mouth remains dry. His stomach is overflowing with butterflies.

Garrett looks so beautiful in the moonlight.

His partner's eyes squint slightly, creased with worry. "Andrew?" he asks. "Is something wrong?"

There's nothing else to it: he steels himself, takes Garrett's hand in his, and gets down on one knee.

"Garrett Sageun Watts," he says, heart beating like machine gun fire in his chest. "I've never been this in love before. Not once in my entire life. You're my best friend, my everything - the one I confide in, the one I go to when I need help, or comfort, or safety. The one I want" - and now his voice wobbles, and he feels his knee digging into the soft earth, and the full gravity of the situation comes bearing down on his shoulders - he feels dizzy -

He takes a breath. Forges on. "The one I want to spend the rest of my entire life with."

Garrett is trembling. Andrew squeezes his hand, smiles up at him.

"I can't imagine being without you, Garrett. I don't know what I did with myself before you came into my life. It took... far too long for me to realize, but - but I don't ever want to let you go. I love you so, _so_ much" - and now he's tearing up, how embarrassing - "so much it hurts. It hurts how much I love _being_ loved by you. I want to keep you safe, and have a tiny little family with you in a tiny little house, just the two of us - and love you for the rest of my days."

He fumbles for his pocket, pulling the black velvet box out into the rosy air and opening it so Garrett can see the ring inside.

He'd seen it in a jewelry store's window when, four months ago, he and Garrett had spent a day exploring L.A. sidestreets, and knew immediately that he had to buy it. The way it caught his gaze in the bright summer sun had set his heart alight - like how Garrett was so golden, lovely soft edges at sunset, resplendent and cherubic and and all Andrew's in the Los Angeles heat.

He rushed back to that same district and found the shop again the next morning. Upon closer examination, he discovered the black band that had originally caught his eye (stood upright in its case, glinting and beckoning him through the glass) was actually lining a prismic inner layer of the most beautiful stone Andrew had ever seen. It actually took his breath away when he held it up to the light.

"Is it made of opal?" he asked, nearly speechless, and the shopkeeper had nodded with a bright smile as it reflected little strips of blue and pink about the room.

It was beautiful, and it absolutely screamed "Garrett Watts".

It was perfect.

"I love you. More than anything," he says. "Will you marry me?"

Silence stretches between them, and Andrew feels like his head is spinning. He watches Garrett's steel blue gaze flicker between him and the ring.

Then Garrett smiles. His eyes are teary when he speaks.

"Andrew," he says, "you got your pants all dirty for nothing."

"What?" he says, terrified, starting to panic - _he doesn't want to marry me - he didn't want me to propose -_

And then Garrett is gently tugging on Andrew's arms, lifting him to his feet, saying, "You never even had to ask," and now Andrew's mouth is on his, and Garrett says between kisses, "I want everything with you - everything I've ever done has been for you," and Andrew takes the ring and slides it onto his finger, tears leaking from their eyes as they press their foreheads together, promise to give each other the rest of their lives.

* * *

_we are standing on the riverbank,  
_ _and i can see moon river on the other side,  
wider than a mile -_

_so close, we can almost touch  
our future together -_

* * *

Andrew drives, because Garrett had a glass of wine, and he didn't - and he lets Garrett pick what they listen to, because his playlists are always exceptional and Andrew really, really loves that about him.

They pull into Garrett's neighborhood and park across the street from his little house. Garrett's phone is playing a nice song that Andrew doesn't quite understand, but -

He blinks, and they're standing outside the car.

 _Strange,_ he thinks, and dismisses it as having been too caught up in Garrett's beauty to realize what they were doing.

He takes Garrett's hand, kisses it, and starts to cross the road, but doesn't get very far. Garrett's pulling against him, dead weight, and he is forced to slow his pace.

"What's wrong?" he asks, turning to face his fiancé.

"Nothing," Garrett says. "I just want to remember how perfect tonight was."

They come to a stop in the middle of the street. He gazes into Garrett's eyes, and everything feels so right, and he is so stupidly in love - and he says so. He says to Garrett, "I am so stupidly in love with you," and beams.

Garrett's lips part in the most beautiful smile Andrew has ever seen in his life. He etches it into his memory; swears never to forget it, even though he has no idea what is about to happen next.

Then Garrett's face pales.

Andrew wonders if it's something he's said - and then there is a strange yellow glow illuminating the side of Garrett's face - and Andrew is twenty-four again, meeting Garrett for the first time on a hot summer night, outside a bar with buzzing neon lights -

And he is smiling, and saying something Andrew doesn't hear, and then he pushes him _hard_ , with both hands, and Andrew is stumbling backwards.

* * *

_pushed into moon river;  
_ _reeling away from my heartbreaker,  
_ _my love -_

* * *

"Hey!" Andrew giggles, slamming up against the gate to the house. His next words are cut off when Garrett's mouth lands on his, hands tugging at Andrew's hips, and they are kissing furiously, and Andrew pulls away, half-hard, gasping, whispering, "Garrett, your neighbors will notice."

"I don't care," Garrett breathes against his neck, voice low and deep - and Andrew shivers, starts to reply again, always the voice of reason, when suddenly -

Garrett grins at him wickedly, picks him up, and throws him over his shoulder.

"Garrett!" he shrieks, laughing wildly as Garrett pushes open the gate and strides into his yard with ease, one hand on Andrew's ass. "You can't just -"

"What?" Garrett says. Andrew hears the turning of a key in the lock, feels the blood rush to his head as he hangs upside down from his boyfriend's grasp. "I'm just taking what's mine, Andrew."

And he does, until Andrew is a gasping, writhing wreck beneath him, hands fisting into the sheets as Garrett leans over him, his nose just inches away from Andrew's as they fuck - and they're much too close, he can feel his face flushing under Garrett's unflinching, lustful gaze - he's too self-conscious, too uncomfortable under this scrutiny, but somehow it turns him on even more, his face bright red, and he's about to come, clenching around Garrett - and Garrett moans at the pressure, fills Andrew up just as he's pushed over the brink himself.

Afterwards, Andrew marvels at the way the afternoon sunlight pours itself, sweet and syrupy, over their bodies, seeping into every corner and crevice, until the room is overflowing with it.

* * *

_moon river is making love to you -_

_feeling so content and taken care of,  
so at peace,  
basking in your glow once we are through;_

_so safe in your arms._

* * *

He isn't sure when it starts; all he knows is that he's back at his apartment, sitting on the hardwood floor next to his couch and surrounded by pieces of paper - some crumpled into balls, some covered with haphazard scribbles, and a select few displaying his messy, hasty script.

All of these pages share something in common: an attempt was made upon each clean sheet to capture this strange, infectious phrase that's been stuck in Andrew's head for what feels like weeks now.

He can't get it out. He can't escape the sense that the words "Moon River" mean something indescribable to him.

So he writes.

* * *

_moon river is...  
_ _you._

_i think i can see it now,  
reflected in your eyes -  
it's in arm's reach -_

* * *

" _Andrew?_ Oh, my god..."

He turns his head to see Shane standing in the doorway, gaping at him.

"You can't be here," he says immediately, embarrassment manifesting as ruddiness to his cheeks. "You have to go, Shane."

"Andrew, what's going on? You haven't been answering your texts -"

Shane steps into Andrew's mess of an apartment, shellshocked by papers and poetry and Moon River. The spell cast over him is broken; shame curls in Andrew's gut, and he once again tries to say, "Shane, you have to leave" - but all that comes out is a small, strange croak - a half-broken sob, catching in his bone-dry throat.

He watches as Shane picks up one of the papers and looks at it, shock coating his features. "What is this?" he asks. There is something else in his expression that Andrew can't quite read.

Andrew's mind screams at his legs to unfold, screams at himself to stand up, to stop Shane, make him leave - but he doesn't have the energy to move from his spot on the floor.

"Andrew, I -" Shane comes forward again, but immediately steps in a puddle of something horrid on the floor that's escaped his gaze. "Oh, my god. Oh, my god, Andrew, oh, my _god_ -"

"Shane -"

"You fucking _threw up on the floor_ and just left it there, oh, my god - Andrew, I'm scared -"

"You have to go away," he wheezes, and finally drags himself to his feet, with all the strength of a dying man.

"Andrew, what is going on? What _is_ all this shit? How long have you been in here?"

His vision clouds, and he staggers, tipping forward. He thinks he lands on his hands and knees, but he isn't sure.

"Oh, my god, I'm calling 911," he hears Shane say from far off, from a ways away. He thinks they might be underwater - and he remembers Shane's old house, summer evenings spent in that pool - and Garrett -

"You have to tell Garrett," he says thickly, muffled, like he's speaking around a mouthful of food. "If we're going to the hospital."

He feels Shane's arms around him; waits for the reply, the promise. His vision hasn't returned. He feels sick.

Shane doesn't say anything for a second too long; then forces out, "Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll tell Garrett. When was the last time you ate, Andrew - or drank _water_ , you look -"

"I don't remember. I don't know how long it's been..."

He clings to Shane, a drowning man grasping at driftwood, and closes his eyes.

* * *

_i am lying in the carriage of an ambulance, and i think  
_ _i can see moon river out the back window,  
_ _flashing red and yellow in the distance_

* * *

The room is dim when he opens his eyes.

A red-haired woman sits at his bedside and looks at him, eyes misted over with tears.

"Mama?" he says. His throat nearly splits over the dull, aching word.

The IV in his arm shifts as he pushes himself up onto the pillows, gritting his teeth against the pain gnawing at his bones.

"When did you get here?" he asks his mother, and she just stares at him disconcertingly.

He wants to ask what's happened to him - what terrible thing has occurred to make her look at him like that. He is unrecognizable to her; he's turned into a monster, clawed at his face in his sleep until he's ripped all the skin off, fingernails whittled to the quick, nothing left of him but ligaments and flesh and bulging eyes -

"Andrew," she says, finally, seeing the fear in his face. "Andrew, it's alright."

"Wh-" he stutters, body contorting on the bed as he tries to break free - bedsheets tangled, a vice about his legs - "Ma, where's Garrett?"

And that sends his mother - his _mother_ , who has only ever let him see her cry twice in his life - into silent, silvery tears, her face bright and shining and pale in the darkness of the room.

"Mama," he tries to say again, breath hitching in his throat, but she just takes his hand, brushes her thumb over his knuckles, and it reminds him so much of his fiancé that he is immediately at peace.

* * *

_my mother cries a pool of sweet tears  
that trickle down to moon river;_

_seep over the body  
that floats around the bend..._

* * *

He had been waiting in the hospital, he remembers, although he isn't sure what for.

They gave him something wrapped in tissue paper, when he was in the waiting room, and told him how very sorry they were. He said nothing, took it home; puts it on a chain and wears it 'round his neck, even though it isn't his.

Now he fingers the cool metal edges and marvels at the way it reflects in the sunlight, shattering its lovely, kaleidoscopic color all across the room.

Shane has cleaned his apartment, while he's been away. In the hospital. Insisting to his mother and the doctors that he's fine, that he just hasn't been sleeping well, that his nerves are a little shot and he forgot to take his medication a few days in a row. He's fine.

(At some point, his mother whispers something to the nurse, who nods with understanding and immediately discharges him.)

Morgan doesn't think he's fine when she comes to visit. She looks at Moon River, papers all clumped together and placed in a jumbled stack on Andrew's kitchen table - Shane's doing, no doubt - and he can tell she's upset, though she puts on her bravest face and tries to pretend like everything's fine.

"Have you heard from Garrett lately?" she asks once he's made coffee. Once two mugs are sitting, untouched, on the tabletop, and they're both seated across from each other.

"I haven't checked my phone in weeks," he admits quietly. "I lost it somewhere in my apartment, when..."

He trails off. Morgan doesn't need him to go on.

"Has he texted _you_?" he says, a hint of old jealousy nipping at his heart. "I was kind of upset when he didn't come visit me in the hospital, but I figured maybe he was busy -"

"Andrew," Morgan says quietly, in a tone that scares him. He keeps talking, because maybe that'll make her stop speaking like that.

"You know how he is, he could've gotten distracted for a little bit, or got sucked up into an Avengers marathon, or, or... maybe he started hoarding again..."

She is so pretty sitting at his kitchen table, glowing in the way only twenty-five year olds can. Andrew feels old. Andrew wishes she would smile at him, instead of just staring like this, eyes full of fear.

"Andrew," she says again, now, and she looks so incredibly heartbroken. "Andrew, where is Garrett?"

"I don't - at his house, probably, I mean -"

"Andrew, he was your fiancé - you know he'd never stop texting you."

"I..."

"Andrew," she says. Her voice breaks on the next phrase - "You know where he is."

"No, I don't, Morgan. I was just telling you, I haven't heard from him in -"

"You know why you haven't heard from him," she says. Her face is red and splotchy now; Andrew realizes she must be crying. "I know you tried to make yourself forget, but you have to tell me, Andrew. Tell me why he hasn't talked to you. Tell me why you haven't seen him in a month, please, Andrew -"

"A - a month?" he whispers. "Morgan?"

He thinks he can actually pinpoint the exact moment her heart splits in two.

He's getting up out of his chair, pushing it away from him, tripping over the legs as horror settles underneath his skin, oozes into his bones - his knees are weak, and Morgan is saying, "Oh, god, Andrew, you don't - do you really not remember - ?" and his head's spinning, he's panting, he's falling backwards -

* * *

_maybe i will let myself fall and drown  
_ _in the reality that is moon river -_

_face down,  
back against the stars,  
drifting slowly down the stream,_

_letting the current take me,  
sending me your way_

* * *

He catches himself - palms splayed, splitting open against the rough gravel leading up to Garrett's gate.

"No," he breathes.

Garrett's smile is still carved into his eyelids when he closes them.

The sidewalk before him flickers, and he shakes himself, blinks, forces himself to focus again.

A car has stopped in the middle of the road, front bumper smashed in, one of the headlights cracked and burnt out. The driver has gotten out and is standing in the street, wringing his hands and saying, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, oh, god, oh, _fuck_ ," and Andrew wonders what he is swearing at - his surroundings dizzy, surreal, like he's floating on a cloud - until he gets himself shakily to his feet and rounds the corner of the car, and -

He's screaming, raw and guttural, sobbing, choking on Garrett's name in his mouth as he looks down at the body in the street - _please open your eyes - please smile at me one more time -_ pulling the broad torso to his ear and listening frantically for a heartbeat, begging Garrett to be alive - _there's so much fucking blood_ \- clutching his fiancé to his chest with one hand and dialing 911 on his phone with the other, listening to the haggard, uneven breathing and praying to anything that will listen, pleading for forgiveness, asking to be woken up from whatever hellish dream this is.

* * *

_ah, here it is:_

_moon river was a song -_

_our last song,  
and a red ribbon that you kept in your pocket,  
and a ring hanging from my neck  
that was supposed to be yours._

* * *

He remembers, now.

He remembers Garrett's mother; standing in the rain at her son's funeral, giving him one last parting gift before she exits Andrew's life forever.

He remembers sitting in the hospital waiting room for sixteen hours, while they tried to restart Garrett's heart, and then came out afterwards with the ring Andrew had given him not even twenty-four hours before - told him they'd tried their best, but it hadn't been good enough.

He remembers screaming in the hospice lobby as security escorted him out.

Morgan is speaking to him again, stammering through her tears as she tries to lift him to his feet, but he's too heavy - he sits on the floor and buries his head in his hands, distantly hears her say into her phone, "I think he might have to go back -"

But it doesn't matter, because he remembers:

Sitting in the car with Garrett, letting Jacob Collier wash over them as he sang about _"moon river, wider than a mile,"_ told them how he was _"crossing it in style."_ He'd looked at Garrett as the song ended, and Garrett looked at him, and then they kissed, and Andrew pulled the keys out of the ignition when they broke apart.

Then they stepped out into the street, and Andrew made sure to lock the doors.

He stood between two lanes and looked at Garrett's smile. He pressed the "LOCK" button on the key fob in his pocket, just to be sure.

He always locked the doors. He always made sure things were safe. That _they_ were safe, that the doors to the tiny house were sealed tight, that the windows were all shut.

He always made sure Garrett was safe - which is why he'll never forgive himself for letting him die.

**Author's Note:**

> Here are pictures of the ring I envisioned as Garrett's wedding band (which you can actually [buy on Etsy](https://www.etsy.com/listing/620014090/galaxy-opal-glowstone-ring-man-opal-ring?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=galaxy+wedding+band&ref=sr_gallery-1-11&pro=1&frs=1)!): [[x](https://i.etsystatic.com/16159794/r/il/6b0114/1672467393/il_794xN.1672467393_kd7z.jpg)] [[x](https://i.etsystatic.com/16159794/r/il/e97d61/1579603308/il_794xN.1579603308_15sx.jpg)]
> 
> I am so incredibly proud of this fic, and I spent a ridiculous amount of time on it - so if you could take the time to leave a comment after reading and tell me if you liked it, that would mean the world to me.
> 
> (Also, if you couldn't follow along with the somewhat asynchronous timeline, which I completely understand, please comment that, as well, and I'll explain it to you!)
> 
> I'm on Tumblr as @[cherryblossomwatts](https://cherryblossomwatts.tumblr.com). Feel free to [send me an ask](https://cherryblossomwatts.tumblr.com/ask) about how much you adore these two so we can love them together - or even send me a fic request!


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